Lest I Forget

 

I was just over a month in Pedraza in the midst of a complex and at times seemingly incomprehensible situation.  All that happened in that craziness reflects  how the rest of the country works.  Revolutions are no walks in the park!  It was, it is, fascinating, to have been in the eye of the storm of Chavez' revolution – in microcosm.  I enjoyed every moment of it. But as a kind of interloper I could afford to.  Nothing has been resolved there as of yet.  Workers have ousted the 'appointed' Student President, Fundacea has little or not control, salary payments have stopped again and the government make weekly promises to announce the process for resuming educational activities. And the London International Office distances itself to the point of oblivion.

The business of appropriate stand out but there were ordinary every day things too that made life enjoyable and I don't want to forget them.  The beauty of the place – running into a wall of mountain that looked like so many limpet shells all joined together and stretching from left to right as far as the eye could see on my jog along the pisto back towards the college campus.  The snow capped tips of the highest peaks of that Andes range.  The long stretches of open flat country, the plains of Los Llanos with rivers crossing along the way.  And the skies at night, unpolluted by city lights, the constellations twinkled in all their splendor. You just had to remember to look skywards!  The absence of the sounds of human habitation that bombard you amidst Caracas' densely populated suburbs and apartment blocks. The presence of so many birds from the tiniest little bright yellow tits to the soaring black hawks.

Going drinking with six 20-something guys from 4 different countries and dancing the night away in a tiny tavern where we were the only customers.  Them running out the door to shout at every other group of chicas who passed by! The best hamburgers in the world from the dodgiest looking of places.

Collecting avocados as the guys knocked them from high off the branches with sticks – we needed those avocados to supplement the lousy diet and limited food supply.  I didn't mind the endless teasing about my “love” for pasta after I simply couldn't face another plate of the stuff when it was served for the seventh consecutive meal.  It wasn't that I complained, I just refused my serving. But everyone noticed!  Staff bringing me food from their homes and inviting me to into their homes and families where we struggled to communicate in Spanish but managed somehow.  Enough so that when they inquired about my experiences in Africa, mother's scolded their kids for not eating what food was put in front of them!  Being given a salsa lesson in the back yard of a small house in Pedraza on a hot, sunny, Sunday afternoon as a tamarind tree was mutilated.  My afternoon coffee and chat with the receptionist – me understanding about 10% of what she said but we still managed to make jokes, usually about the fat man!

Demonstrations too brought their own sense of solidarity.  I can't forget joining the protesters late at night at the College gates where the solitary bulb attracted too many insects and we played endless rounds of dominos. The convention of slamming your domino down hard as if you wanted to reach the centre of the earth unnerved me. I got used to it but could never copy it. 

On the morning I was leaving there was a mad 6am bus ride to Barinas in search of a cap with the image of Chavez on the front. It was unsuccessful as I knew it would be but someone wanted me to do it and I went along for the ride. 

I have been touched by the sadness people expressed when they knew I was leaving and feel a little guilty that they continue to tell me how much they miss me. Though I'd like the 2am text messages a bit earlier in the evening!  I will forever be touched by the many kindnesses people showed me and the joy they brought to my life.  I've been so privileged and so humbled.